Part of Your World
by officeladyhikaru
Summary: Makoto is a wide-eyed Tokyo college student fresh off the train from Iwatobi. Tokyo is a lot to take in: a city where you can meet anyone, including a redhead who is two people in one. (Kaoru genderbent and genderfluid with a slightly altered backstory, rated M for darker and sexual themes in later chapters.)
1. We're not in Iwatobi anymore

Hi all,

I am trying something new. For one thing, I realize that crossovers are a dangerous territory, with some people being fond of them and some people hating them. In a way, they are selfish efforts on the author's part, for they come from wanting to play with all of one's toys at the same time. Hopefully, most people who have seen one anime have also seen the other, but to help my readers, I'll do my best to explain what they need to know of both verses, and since this story takes place after both _Free!_ and _Ouran_ end, I hope it won't be too much of a problem.

Moreover, those familiar with my work are aware than I like to genderbend Kaoru and change her backstory. Therefore, my Kaoru will be a little different this time: in general her personality will remain the same, she'll come from the same sort of family, she'll still be a host and have all the same friends, but the differences... well, let's just say they remain to be discovered.

(Story dedicated to bigbrothermakoto)

* * *

><p>Tokyo was a lot to take in.<p>

Of course, Makoto had been there once before, when he and Haru and the rest of the swim team had gone to Nationals the previous year, but nothing could have prepared him for what the city really was: a veritable anthill of activity that never stopped - not for a single moment.

The day he got off the train at Shinjuku station, he saw more people than he'd seen in Iwatobi in all his life. And it only got worse from there. In the small town where he'd lived, on the west coast of Japan, there had been only two train lines, but when it came to getting around in Tokyo, it felt like a video game with faulty controls. Everywhere he looked, currents of people were flowing thick and fast, and one wrong move was all it could take to get swept up by the riptide.

It was altogether too much for timid-hearted Makoto. Although he could see over people's heads, standing just over 180 cm tall*, he wanted to curl up in a ball, and only his best friend Haru's presence saved him. Haru looked up at him with placid, deep-blue eyes, and right then Makoto knew it wasn't just about him anymore.

(*six feet)

The night after he moved into his apartment, he sat in the middle of the floor and stared out the window. It was better than looking at the walls, which were still bare, and though it was past 12 o'clock he still heard the ramble of trains and the buzzing of traffic. The city never slept - only dozed, like a great long dragon coiled over thousands of kilometers square, and its breath was the wheeze of some 30 million lives, all rumbling along with no knowledge of each other.

Makoto sighed and thought of the sunsets of Iwatobi, glowing red over the rooftop pool and through his bedroom window. The walls of his apartment were paper-thin, and from where he sat he could hear the rattle of pots and pans and a faucet turning on. He thought of calling Haru, but Haru wasn't good at picking up his phone, and in any case, the other boy would probably be sleeping.

Of course, there were comforting things too. Like the next morning, when Makoto woke up and scampered around his room for a good while, and then set off for Haru's place several stations down the line and found his friend languishing in the tub - the same way he'd done every morning for the better part of his adolescence.

"Haru!" he called into the darkness. The front door was unlocked, and though Makoto had his own key, the fact alarmed him.

No answer came.

"You know, Haru" - the gentle giant poked his head around the bathroom door. "You really ought to try and lock your door - we're not in Iwatobi anymore."

Haru looked up from the water's edge, and Makoto saw him wearing the same expression that he always did - or, more precisely, no expression at all.

"Oh. Sorry," the dark-haired boy replied. The rubber dolphin, a gift from Makoto from way back then - when they'd first started swimming lessons as little tykes - was bobbing over the surface. To most people, Haru's voice was lacking in emotion, but to Makoto the inflexion of _Sorry, I got carried away with thinking about water again_ was loud and clear.

Makoto shook his head and gave a diffident smile.

"No need to be sorry" - he said, crossing the bathroom in two steps. "It's dangerous, that's the only thing. You don't want to be leaving your door unlocked at night, not in a city like this. Come on -" He extended a hand. "Let's get you ready. The last thing we want is to be late on the first day."

…

And so it was that Makoto ended up watching his friend fry up a piece of mackerel, standing over the stove in just his apron and swim trunks. He glanced time and again at his watch, hoping Haru would take the hint, but when it came to certain things, Haru doggedly refused to be hurried.

They got on the train - the sakura at the station in full bloom - and headed in the direction of Bunkyo ward, home to the city's biggest consortium of universities. It was just after morning rush hour, for lectures did not start until 9, and as Makoto watched the long lines of balconies slipping past the window - laundry flapping in the breeze - he began to feel calm. After all, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. He and Haru wouldn't be sitting side by side in classes anymore, with him studying to be a teacher and Haru taking only a half-course load to train as a professional athlete, but just like him, Haru was shy, and going forward they would always find comfort in each other.

In fact, as long as they could keep their morning routine, with Makoto coming over to fish Haru out of the tub and then traveling to school together, the gentle giant was almost sure he would be fine. After all, it never took much to keep him grounded.

He said goodbye to Haru outside the sports building - a beautiful dome of glass and steel that he remembered from Nationals.

"Have a good day, Haru," he waved from the bottom of the steps. "Meet you right here when you're ready to go home?"

And Haru smiled back, and with a shrug of his shoulders to readjust his knapsack he was gone. Makoto was all alone, and the square in front of him was milling with students, all of whom seemed perfectly certain of where to go.

To stave off the anxiety that was rising in his gut, Makoto pulled out his class schedule.

_Theory of Education 1 - 9 a.m. - 10:30 a.m., Building 14, Room 563._

Alright, where was building 14? Makoto pulled out his map, and peered over the stylized squares, all labeled in tiny font.

It's alright - he though - don't worry. You've got plenty of time… And at the end of the day, you've got a pair of eyes, you've got a mouth and a tongue, if all else fails you can simply _ask_.

Makoto began to walk, his eyes fixed on the map. The sounds of gleeful conversation filled the air, but the sunlight and the sakura no longer brought him joy. The future - once so bright - was already feeling like an obstacle course.

The buildings on either side were of all kinds - from quaint old brownstone to ultra-modern by turns, but Makoto was checking his map far too often to notice. Somewhere far away, a bell rang, and Makoto quickened his step - for according to the map, he still had a ways to go, and only four minutes to get there.

He must have quickened it too much, for the next thing he knew, he had walked right into… someone.

"Mother of -"

Makoto's gaze shot upward, and he was about to blurt out an apology - but an apology, he quickly realized, would hardly be sufficient.

The being he had collided with was of indeterminate gender and age, and was wearing a set of tan capris and a shirt with a design like a watercolor stain. She - or he - had been carrying a stack of folders piled on top of each other, along with a heap of art supplies that were now all over the grass.

"Oh, no, I'm so, so sorry!" Makoto exclaimed. "I-it's all my fault - here, let me help you…"

But the papers that had spilled were flying away at an alarming rate, and the being was already on their knees, muttering something unintelligible. The voice gave no indication of gender either: it could have been that of a late-bloomer boy, or of a woman in her twenties who didn't like to show off her body.

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry," the gangly creature cried, grasping spasmodically at the papers and forcing them into a pile. "I wasn't looking where I was going at all."

"Well, heh, in that case that makes two of us" - Makoto smiled, and squatted down by their side. "I wasn't looking where I was going either, but I still think I'm more at fault - I didn't have as much to carry."

The being glanced up, and Makoto saw a pair of leaf-shaped earrings amid the short, deep-chestnut hair - not that that said much. Since the time he'd arrived, he'd seen a wide variety of outlandish fashions, from teens in cosplay to Lolitas to boys who looked like girls, and yet - whatever the gender of the being in front of him, they really were quite exquisite - from the delicate ski-jump of the nose to the eyes the color of koi fish.

For a moment, Makoto felt perfectly calm - despite the urgency of the bell, the anxiety of being late, and the fact that they were blocking the path for their fellow students.

But it only lasted a moment.

"I - uh, yeah… I'm really sorry" - the being looked away almost as quickly as they'd made eye contact, and bagan to gather the paintbrushes into a bunch. "You don't have to help me - I-I mean, I appreciate the sentiment and all, but it'll probably just make you late -"

And Makoto, embarrassed by the fact that he'd been staring, had blushed to the roots of his ash-brown hair and scrambled up, dropping his bag and rushing to pick up the papers that had flown beyond reach. As he did so, he noticed that the pictures had people in various poses, and in various styles of clothing.

When he returned, the delicate being was just about done compiling their possessions into a haphazard pile, and was scrambling up. Makoto held out the stack of papers, and made an effort to smooth out the creases.

"Once again, I'm so sorry… I didn't catch your name."

He still wasn't sure what the gender his new acquaintance was - not that it mattered - but if he had a name, he thought it might orient him better.

But the delicate being sprung away, avoiding his eyes, and in a standing position, Makoto judged them to be about 175 cm* in height - so more likely a boy or an uncommonly tall girl.

(*5'9; the average height of women in Japan in is 5'2 or 158 cm.)

"Well, hey," he cocked his head. " Don't you at least want these back? They look like they took a lot of work, and while I'm happy to keep them, I'm sure that you need them more."

The redhead's blush expanded to the neck, and she - or he - attempted to hold out a hand, which put the rest of the items in jeopardy of falling.

"Here, let's do this" - Makoto smiled and peeled away the paint box from the top of the pile, using it to clam down the drawings. "Now, are you sure you don't want me to help you get all this to where you need to go? "

But before he'd finished his sentence, the redhead had begun to back away. Makoto rushed to pick up his bag, debating whether he should follow his new acquaintance or not, but once he had made up his mind, it was too late. The slender back was already disappearing into the crowd, pushing past some twenty students who had taken up the better part of the path, and were taking their sweet time.

_Well, maybe they didn't want to make a friend today_ - Makoto sighed as he watched the figure disappear. After all, it _was_ the first day of school, and a stressful time for everybody.

Still, he couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit sad. He had heard that people in the capital were unfriendly, but this girl - or boy - had not looked mean - just frightened, and Makoto wondered what it was that had scared them so. After all, tall though he was, he was wearing a farmer-style checkered shirt, a T-shirt underneath, and well-worn pants… In other words, he was just your average, everyday, slightly awkward college student.

He scratched the back of his neck, and tried to gather his thoughts. In the frenzy, he wasn't sure what he had done with his map and schedule, and he searched his pockets, but to no avail. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw some pieces of paper clinging to a bush - one of the many bushes that flanked the red-brick building proudly bearing a sign that said "Social Science Faculty."

Makoto hurried over and sure enough, there they were - both of his papers. But there was a third piece of paper as well, and it seemed they hadn't gotten all the redhead's drawings after all. The picture was a good deal like the other ones, and depicted a girl, perhaps three years old, wearing a purple dress with butterfly wings.

Below the drawing, there was a note.

_Costume for Ageha Hita..._ - it read, but the last Kanji was unintelligible.


	2. The Girl with Eyes the Color of Koi Fish

Makoto ended up putting the piece of paper in his notebook and hurrying to class, and once the lecture began things escalated very quickly. For a time, he even forgot about the redheaded being - and yet, as the clock ticked away and the professor talked, he felt the thought buzzing in the back of his mind - like a small annoying gnat, and swat as he might, he could not get rid of it.

It wasn't as if he had fallen in love with the redhead - he wasn't quite so frivolous as all that. But there was something about the encounter that felt unfinished. He didn't like the thought of leaving the impression he had, and if something about him _had_ put her off, he wanted to set the record straight.

And then again, he had always been drawn to people who were a little wild. Haru - his best friend since grade school - was highly uncommunicative - some may even have said Autistic, but Makoto took a great deal of pride in having "tamed" him and gained his trust, and suspected the redhead was much the same sort of person.

Speaking of which, he _still_ wasn't sure of the redhead's sex. The gestalt feeling that he got whenever he thought of her was "girl," but then his tastes had always leaned more towards girls, and he did not wish to end up disappointed. Indeed, whenever he _did_ think of her, he'd snap himself angrily back and try to refocus on the lecture: after all, he still had his future to think about, and he had come to Tokyo with a dream, and in any case, now was not the time be thinking of mysterious redheads. He was no dummy - he'd always gotten decent grades, and he'd been admitted to Tokyo University, which meant that he had done _something_ right, but college, all the same, was nothing like high school. In college, things moved very fast, and if you blinked even once, you were bound to miss things.

In the end, Makoto did manage to train his thoughts on what mattered, and the time passed quickly. Before he knew it, the sound of the bell signaled the end of class, and when he snapped his head up, he saw his classmates getting up all around him. The sound of shuffling feet intermixed with a dozen conversations happening all at once, and Makoto's stomach growled as if on cue: it was nearly lunch time.

He made his way out of the auditorium and then out the double doors, following the crowd. Once he emerged into the sunlight, he decided to eat his bento on the grass, and sat under a solitary oak. He _considered_, briefly, whether he should go and try to talk to some students eating picnic-style not far away, but Haru wasn't with him, and he remembered just how uncomfortable his body had made him all his life. In fact, over the years his body had grown while his spirit stayed the same, and he suddenly felt like he took up too much space and would only scare everyone again.

He looked down at his bento - a valiant effort but a sad one, for he had never learned to cook very well for himself. From what he knew, Bunkyo ward had some fifteen universities, and each university had anywhere from several hundred to several thousand students. The chances of finding one person in such a mass was slim to none - but then, what did he even have to go on? He guessed that she - yes, let's call her she for simplicity, he'd decided - let's say that she was an art student, going off the things she'd carried… He still had no name, aside from "Hita-" and "Ageha" was probably not the redhead but somebody close to her, such as a sister or the sister of a friend. He pulled out his phone and sure enough, the browser spit up more useless information than he could wade through…

And besides, what was he going to do? Message every person with the characters "Hita" in their name and awkwardly explain the situation? Show up at her door or call her on her cell phone which he'd gotten off a public directory? He wanted, if possible, to meet with her on neutral ground, and calls and messages were far too easy to ignore.

Makoto pulled himself to his feet, and snapped his bento shut. He had eaten all the burnt chicken he could handle - but that was another project for another time, for much to his chagrin he'd found that ready-made food in the capital was quite expensive. He set off down the path, and slid open his phone once again. He had to find that redhead - he didn't even know why… He just did.

In the end, the lunch hour wasn't as productive as he'd hoped. The best thing he could come up with was to use brute force - but not on the internet; instead, he would visit every registrar's office in every college in the ward, and explain the situation. But that promised to be a labor-intensive endeavor, and on the first day, he had only gotten around to his own school, and had had a very bizarre interaction with the receptionist.

It had gone something like this.

"Excuse me," Makoto poked his head around the door to find an office of blonde wood with a bell atop the front desk, paired with a delicate sprig of cherry and a pretty receptionist behind the counter. Emboldened in his quest by actually having found the place with minimal effort and only one instance of asking directions, he'd decided to deploy the boy-next-charm that he allegedly had, but had never noticed himself.

"May I help you?" The girl behind the counter, he noticed, was a pretty one, with wire-rimmed glasses and a cute blushing look.

"I'm sorry - I kind of have a weird dilemma," Makoto replied with a smile, stepping around the door and pulling in his shoulders, for the space was very small and once again he felt like he'd break something if he wasn't careful. "You see, I think I've got something that belongs to someone - but I don't know their name, and -" He pressed his palms awkwardly together, worried that if he didn't watch for his elbows, he'd knock over the leafy plant in the corner.

The girl was quiet for a few moments, and Makoto heard the sounds of a classical piano piece, coming from a radio behind the partition.

"Well, have you tried taking it to lost and found?"

"Well, uhm -"

Makoto faltered. Indeed, lost and found… It was a perfectly reasonable solution, were his problem really what he claimed it was.

He resisted the urge to turn tail and run, and forced himself to smile wider.

"Well, uhm, you see, I don't really know if they know they've lost it," he said, "But it might be important, so I thought -"

Failing for words, he scrambled for the closure of his bag, and fumbled through his papers until he located the drawing. He held it out for the girl to see.

"Ageha Hita -?" She squinted at the paper.

"Well, no, that's not the name of the person I'm looking for, but I guess the last name might be a clue, since it might be a little sister or the sister of a friend -"

"Sir" - the girl readjusted her glasses over her nose, suddenly looking stern. "It's probably something along the lines of 'Hitachi,' and I can tell you right off the the bat that we've got about fifty Hitachi's in the university alone - and anyway, school records are confidential, so if you're a stalker or a pervert of some kind, I suggest -"

"A - a stalker?! Wait, no, I'm not a stalker, I'm just -"

In the end, the girl ended up taking pity on Makoto, for he must have looked like he had fallen out of the frying pan straight into the fire, and took him back to her office, where she made him tea and instructed him - just as sternly - to tell her the whole story, truthfully, from the very beginning. And at the end of ten minutes, Makoto must have looked so miserable - and, apparently, so much like a sympathetic, simple-minded country boy that she ended up taking pity on him again and returned with a stack of folders, at which point they went through all the files of students with "Hita" in their name, along with all the art students - but did not find the redhead among them.

A few more days like that, though, and things fell into a routine. The scariest bit over, Makoto decided to visit one registrar's office every day, and carried on meeting with Haru at his apartment and after school, and then going over to the udon shop near campus where the bowls were miraculously cheap. Once there, the two would study and talk about their days over the clatter of pots and pans and the aroma of heart stew - or rather - Makoto would talk, for Haru had never had much to say even when he was happy. Still, it was only too obvious to Makoto that he _was_, for under the lights of the kitchen, Haru's face still had the same glow as it did at Nationals - the shadow of sights he'd never seen before urging him forward and making everything worthwhile.

Makoto decided not to say anything about the redhead, though. He'd started to think of it as a personal quest, an exercise in breaking away and becoming more independent, and to accomplish that, he had to go it alone.

At night, he would still take the drawing out of his notebook and look at it, sometimes for minutes at a time, wondering what sort of person the artist was. He imagined delicate fingers, sketching the lines - long and boyish and blunt-ended at the same time… Whoever drew the ink-lines and colored in the hues of the dress - the shades so much like a real butterfly's wings - had to have had incredible patience. For some reason, he couldn't imagine that a person who could put so much work into child's dress could be bad, and more than once he had fallen asleep thinking of the girl with the eyes the color of koi fish.

On the fifth day, which was Friday, he had made his way to the fifth university on his list - a private school called Ouran, and when he reached the registrar's office he knew right away there was something different about this place.

He had only ever seen buildings like that in books about European castles. Proud neoclassical walls rose everywhere he looked, and when he stepped into the dark, echoing hall he felt distinctly small, and like he wasn't supposed to be there.

In this building, the counter of the registrar's office was paneled with oak, and the stained glass windows let in flows of light in yellow, orange, and green. The chairs in the waiting room were leather-bound, and the whole place had a smell of very old books like a very old, very European boarding school straight out a movie.

Makoto, who by that point had judged himself rather adept at his routine, approached the counter and rang the bell. A man in a blue blazer and khaki pants did not leave him waiting long, emerging from a wood-paneled, hobbit-like door in one of the walls. He measured Makoto up and down with slate-grey eyes behind a set of spectacles, and said in a raspy voice,

"Yes, young man, how may I help you?"

Makoto faltered - but only briefly. Sure, he had rehearsed his spiel about a dozen times, but registrar's offices tended to be staffed by females, which left him complacent in his strategy.

"Ehm" - he cleared his throat, and held out the sheet of paper. Given the man's august demeanor and age, he decided to try to a polite-to-a-fault routine. "My name is Tachibana Makoto," he said a bit stiffly, using his best honorifics to address the man, "I am a Tokyo University first-year student, and I'm looking for the proprietor of _this_."

The man lowered his spectacles and peered at the sheet. A smile spread across his face.

"Ah, this must be our very own Miss Kaoru Hitachiin," he said, reaching to smooth out a dog-ear on the much-maligned piece of paper.

Makoto contemplated replying, but figured that his dumbfounded expression was response enough.

"You - know this person?"

The man gave another smile, and Makoto decided he looked like a confucian scholar - modern blazer and well-ironed pants aside.

"Why, yes, of course. Ouran's a very small place, young man. We make it a point of knowing everyone here."

"Oh, well, uh -" Makoto blushed. Something about the way the man spoke made him feel, once again, like he didn't exactly belong there. But he rallied his forces all the same. "Well, uhm, as the case may be," he went on. "It just so happens that I was the cause of Miss - er, Kaoru falling down on the way to class and spilling all her papers a few days ago. I helped her pick them up, but I found this after the fact, and was hoping I might give it back to her in person and apologize properly."

The little man readjusted his glasses, and measured Makoto, once again, from head to toe. For more reasons than one, Makoto felt like he was face to face with a man who had a daughter and did not like the look of any of the boys in the neighborhood.

"Well, I see no harm in that." The man's eyes softened. Makoto let out a barely-audible sigh. It seemed the self-deprecation strategy and throwing himself under the bus had helped.

The man walked slowly over to a revolving accordion of papers and spun it around.

"Here, I'm not at liberty to give out student class schedules, but I can give you a map. As you might suspect, Miss Kaoru Hitachiin is an art student, so she might be found in the art building right about now..."

…

The university was like that in its entirety - large and imposing and quiet, with well-manicured lawns and spacious grounds filled with sakura trees. It was all very idyllic: the late afternoon sun lying thick and lazy over endless verdant lawns, and there were hardly any people - a surreal sight in a part of the world that had thousands of people crammed into every square kilometer.

What kind of place _was_ this? Makoto almost didn't want to know.

The art building looked like a great summerhouse in the middle of a mass of cherry trees, and Makoto made his way inside, breathing in the fresh, cool breeze of the fountain in front of the double doors.

He poked his head into the first door that he saw looked like a studio. The hall was big and airy, and largely empty except for the golden light of the afternoon. Here and there, there were canvases and large sketching tables, along with mannequins and rags, and a smell of turpentine and paint.

"Excuse me, is there a Kaoru Hitachiin here?" - Makoto asked timidly when he spotted two girls talking in hushed voices behind a canvas. "I'm a - friend."

"Kaoru Hitachiin?" - one of the girls cocked her head, and the other covered her smile with a delicate hand. She was an exquisite, petite beauty, with dyed, ash-blonde hair. "You probably want the design suite, upstairs and to the right."

…

"Well, heh, looks like I found you," Makoto smiled and extended his hand. "Kaoru Hitachiin, right? My name is Makoto Tachibana; I go to Todai - you probably remember bumping into me the other day."

Makoto cocked his head, folded his lips into a smile that turned his eye-creases into slits.

The room was empty, except for a few solitary students huddled at computers with large, luminescent monitors. There were easels here too - but they were a bright and intense white, and made of squared paper. The mannequins that were present were all wearing clothes, and samples of fabric were scattered everywhere like brightly colored leaves.

When one of her classmates pointed out Kaoru to him, Makoto saw her sitting behind a row of plastic human models. All but one of them were wearing the beginnings of clothes - including one dress that looked like it had feathers going down its train - and Kaoru was facing away, peering at her monitor with some concentration. He could not see her face, but somehow the way she propped her chin up on her hand felt unmistakeable.

When he came over and tapped her shoulder, she had started and glanced up, and her first expression had been too quick to catch. It melted quickly enough, though, into a pleasant yet uncertain smile - and now that Makoto had learned she was a girl, he gave himself permission to find her beautiful. Though she was tall and thin and some might even have said lanky, there was a definite warmth and a pleasantness about her, even in the baggy off-white shirt that she had paired with harem pants and sandals.

And then, as if recanting her sudden move, the redheaded girl glanced down, a blush coloring her cheeks.

"I'm not sure why you felt the need to find me," she replied. Her lips were a light peach - perhaps tinted, perhaps not - and she licked them quickly. Makoto smiled - for her voice was just as raspy as he remembered - almost the voice of a teenage boy.

"I'm sorry, once again - I must made you late that day. I really should have been more careful."

"No need to be sorry," Makoto smiled wider. "Here, don't you want this?" He held out the drawing, in a way that made it plain what the design on it was. "Is that your little sister?"

Kaoru nodded, and Makoto extended the drawing a bit more insistently.

"Ageha, right? How old is she?"

Kaoru accepted the drawing, and looked up at Makoto with what seemed like a delicate sadness.

"Three."

Makoto watched her for a few moments, but instead of volunteering anything further, Kaoru turned back to her desk and retreived a folder, tucking the drawing into one of the pockets.

"Huh. So this is it, then?" Makoto cocked his head again, a gentle tease in his voice. "That's all I get for my pains? I was hoping for a little more, to be honest."

Kaoru glanced back up, and her expression was momentarily inscrutable - only to melt into a half-impish smile.

"Hm. I'm not sure what you mean," she said, appraising Makoto from sole to crown in an almost detached, scientific way. "I'm grateful for your help - I'm sorry if I didn't make that clear in the moment, but I am -" She gave a soft, caressing glance as soon as she reached his face - only to look away, her lashes barely letting in the light. "I mean, how you helped me pick everything up, and how you came all this way to give me a drawing - it shows you are a good person." She paused, and glanced at her fingernails. "Still, I kind of expect most people would have better things to do than track down a person they don't even know to give them a piece of paper. I mean, you're not in love with me, are you? Please tell me you're not. That would be way too much like a bad shoujo manga."

Makoto gave a smile.

"No. Of course I'm not."

"Ah. Well. That's a load off."

"But even though I'm not, I did think that drawing was pretty important to you - and I don't like to give the wrong impression. It seemed like you were pretty scared of me that time, and I just wanted to set the record straight - there's nothing scary about me. At all."

Kaoru shrugged - with just one shoulder, and sat back down on her swivel chair, one leg over the other.

"I wasn't scared, just - embarrassed. And you seem a little too keen on making sure that people have a good opinion of you, if I do say so myself," she mused.

Makoto watched her movements, and decided to take the way she had swiveled her chair half-towards him as a sign.

"Well, be that as it may," he went on, "I kind of wanted to start again. Maybe become friends. There isn't anything scary about me, I promise. I'm just a first year new to Tokyo like anybody else."

Kaoru had begun to turn in her chair slowly towards the desk, where a pattern lay open in Photoshop and at the mercy of a myriad virtual brushes. But three-quarters of the way through she seemed to change her mind, and slowly slowly back. When Makoto saw her face again, one of her brows was delicately arched.

"Alright, then. But _why_ do you want to become friends? You don't even know anything about me - or do you?"

And there, Makoto had to own, she had a point. He _didn't_ know much about her. He was so caught up in trying to find her that he had not bothered to find out anything at all, including what sort of person this "Kaoru Hitachiin" was, or where she came from, or what sort of school this was that she attended.

In fact, a part of him still would have preferred not to know - and yet, she was warming up to him so nicely - her movements growing fluid and her voice less anxious.

"No, I don't know anything," he confessed. "But I would like to. I really would."

From you. Not from anybody else.

"Oh." Kaoru stopped the progress of her swivel, and looked at up Makoto once more - not quizzically, but with a sudden, almost unabashed fascination. "So wait, you're saying you _really_ know _nothing_ about me - and you haven't searched for me on the internet - or for my sister?"

Makoto felt an unwilling blush rise to his cheeks.

"No, I really haven't -" he shook his head. "I only learned your name about fifteen minutes ago, and Ageha - well, I knew it wouldn't make much sense to go looking for _her_; she's clearly not you, and she's too young, if I went off the characters I had alone, I would've come up with about a million Hitachi's…"

"Extraordinary." Kaoru sniffed a laugh, and her smile turned into one of guarded admiration - or so Makoto dared to hope. "And you're from out of town, you said?"

Makoto smiled and nodded.

"Yeah. I come from a town of about 12,000 people on the coast of the Sea of Japan. In Tottori prefecture," he added - helpfully or not, he wasn't sure.

"Wow, that's… tiny." Kaoru's smile widened as she went on studying him - more carefully this time - with her amber eyes. "I can't imagine living anywhere that small. Do you have sand dunes where you live?" **

(**The fictional town of Iwatobi in Free! is based on the town of Iwami, in Tottori prefecture. Tottori prefecture is known for its seaside sand dunes.)

"Yeah, I guess we have a few" - Makoto shrugged, tucking in his elbows sheepishly. That is, if sand dunes were what they called the sandy hills a few miles from home, where he and his friends like to gather in a hilltop gazebo.

Kaoru's eyes came to a stop, somewhere around the region of his waistband, and snapped back up. In the sunfilled room - white walls and canvases mirroring and magnifying the effect, they looked like darkened, liquid gold - and then she got up, and walked slowly towards him.

"I see," she said. "Sounds charming." He could not tell if her voice was a laugh - but it was hardly indifferent. "Well, what do you want to do about becoming friends? What should we do? Where should we go?"

"Uhh -"

Kaoru stopped a few feet short of him, and Makoto noticed that she was Haru's shape and size - skinnier perhaps, but something about the circumstance had comforted him.

"Well, uh, h-how about tomorrow?" he ventured. "We can, uh - go somewhere, maybe? Have lunch… or dinner, or - something…"

Yes, in fact - tomorrow would be best… After all, he still had to coordinate with Haru - in case the latter had his own ideas for plans… And, come to think of it, he still had yet to tell his friend about the whole experience…

A playful smile slipped into Kaoru's eyes.

"Hm. Dinner? How perfectly... boring."

The corners of Makoto's mouth wilted.

"Well... uh - I… guess we could, uh… do something else, I just don't know what - I mean, I haven't even been here that long…"

…And, come to think of it, he had already learned full well how expensive everything in Tokyo was. His food budget aside, he had no idea how to have fun given the state of his finances.

But Kaoru stepped toward him and stopped just short of placing a hand on his chest.

"Hey, Makoto. Relax" - she smiled indulgently - causing him to nearly swallow his tongue. "Just meet me at Ikebukuro station by the third ticket counter tomorrow at six. I'll show you a sight you've never seen before."


	3. More, more, more

_You know, it's funny. As it happens, I've seen this exact sight before._

Makoto didn't want to say it - didn't know exactly how to say it - but it was true. Tokyo lay as if on a palm before his eyes, glowing neon and bright across the bay. The last time he had seen it was only months ago, when he and the swim team had come to compete in nationals.

But Kaoru, it seemed, had planned the dramatic reveal so well that he didn't want to disappoint her. They met, promptly as she said, at 6:00 at Shinjuku station by the third ticket counter, and he had smiled unwillingly as he saw her adjusting her backpack-straps and shuffling her feet. Clad in a baggy T-shirt with the word "OldCodex" and in khaki cut-offs, she hardly looked ready for a date - though, come to think of it, it never had been delineated as such - and yet when she noticed him she waved excitedly, her face brightening up as if she had been waiting all day. And Makoto, for his part, had just about begun to feel melancholy on account of his unsatisfying dinner - which he had burned - but ended up quickening his step as well - for it was always nice to see a friendly face in the crowd, and part of him was still afraid that Kaoru was either some kind of spectral being, or would get swept up by the turnstiles if he didn't get there quickly enough.

"Well, hey" - he'd said, as he stopped a few paces in front of her.

"Hello" - she'd reparteed, her eyes an olive green with a hint of chartreuse under the lights. He saw, too, that she had a smattering of freckles. "Ready to go?" she asked. "I brought some food, just in case - we've got a bit of trek ahead of us."

The "trek" ended up being a journey halfway across town from Shinjuku to Shimbashi on the east side, and then they switched over to the automated Yurikomome line, which was to take them to their final destination. The trip took the better part of an hour, and the train cars were crowded: stuffed full to the brim with weary, black-suited businessmen and women in pencil skirts and suits. In fact, it was so crowded there was hardly room to breathe, and there were workers at nearly every station helping to cram in people so the doors could close. Makoto had to concede he had never seen so many people in one place: but then again, he had never taken the train at rush hour either, and apparently even in Tokyo it was a whole different ball game. Along with the office workers, there were literally scads and scads of other people - from teenagers and young adults just heading out to a night on the town, to elderly ladies and older men sitting with their feet primly together and bags tightly clasped in their hands… Makoto's only regret that he could not express more of his enthusiasm to Kaoru - but the clatter of wheels and the whistle of pistons made conversation nearly impossible, so he contented himself with looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and marveling at the way she sat perfectly still with her golden eyes scanning once in a while to catch the contents of somebody's e-book or cell phone.

The train plunged under the ground and emerged once again, and the city lights winked and blinked at them from the distance. By the time they got on the Yurikomome line, the crowd had thinned out and was mostly teenagers in cosplay. Makoto had just about begun worrying about the contents of his wallet again when Kaoru looked up and informed him about the special nature of the train line, and how it had voice-recording of famous actors announcing the stations. Just then, the car also also went around a corner, and a spectacular sight came into view: the expanse of Tokyo Bay - mirror-like and rippling with a golden sheen as the sun tipped itself over the edge of Fuji-san and left the world swathed in purple shadows. Yakatabune boats cut over the surface of the bay, and Odaiba island held its head up over the water, its silhouette with the ferris wheel and the buildings lighting up like circus town floating over the waves.

Makoto smiled sheepishly.

"Well, that's the first sight of two for tonight," Kaoru announced , a smile in her voice as the shadows of the lighting-poles outside slipped over her face. "You'll see the other soon - I come by here quite a bit."

And now they were sitting on the selfsame island, on the grass, in a large city park. Odaiba was an artificial island in the middle of Tokyo Bay that was known for many things - from its bid for the site of the 2020 Olympics, to the gaming arcade known as Tokyo Leisure Land, with 24 hour video simulations, bowling, and, karaoke, as as well as a Venice-themed shopping mall and the Museum of Maritime Science, complete with a swimming pool that the swim club had poked their heads into during their last trip. But Kaoru had opted for a more secluded place, with beech trees overhead and a lookout with benches out in front of them. She then took out a thin blanket from her backpack, as well as a cooler of food, and in the floodlights from the embankment, some sets of sushi rolls packed into several bentos, as well as onigiri rice balls and breaded katsu pork and sandwiches of the Western type came into view - with cheesy bread and thick cuts of ham and vegetables peeking out from all the sides.

By then, Makoto was not just unsatisfied with his dinner - whose smell had become embedded in his curtains at home - but now his stomach gave an all-out grumble - and to add insult to injury, Kaoru seemed to hear it.

"Go ahead, dig in," she said with a bit of a wink. "Just take your shoes off when you come onto my mat."

Makoto obeyed and squatted to undo his shoes - and did himself credit in trying to not bolt the food like he had wanted to. The food did taste somehow different - the salmon in the rice balls slightly tastier than salmon he knew - even from back home, where it was always freshly caught and still smelled of ocean and brine. And the mayo, too, was thicker, and had a hint of warm milk, and all the Western sandwiches were big and hearty and bready.

The lights flickered on and off in the distance, and Kaoru watched Makoto eat, taking very little for herself. The waves rustled softly down below, and a cool breeze brought the smell of machinery and metal up from the harbor. The sun had set, and the inky blue was thickening in the sky - though in the green and purple lights from the Rainbow Bridge, it felt like they were sitting in a living room and eating takeout.

Kaoru looked out at the skyline.

"And you know, the best thing about it is that it's free," she mused, reaching into her backpack and taking out a bottle. "I mean, obviously there's getting here, but that's about it. And it's so quiet. Like someone turned the volume down to mute."

Makoto nodded. Indeed, it was hard to believe how quickly he had gotten used to the clatter of the city. He fell asleep to it and woke to it, and now that it was gone, the rustle of leaves and the lapping of waves felt surreal, as did the faraway voices of revelers on yakatabune boats.

"The only other place you get this is up in the mountains, in the temples." Kaoru braced her hand against the bottle and turned. "But this is closer - and it's open after dark."

She pulled out two disposable cups, and Makoto watched her pour out the bottle. The air filled with the smell of fermented plum, and she handed him one of the glasses.

"Is that -?"

"Umeshu. I'm personally quite a fan."

Makoto accepted the cup with a bit of a blush. "I don't drink, though."

Kaoru chuckled. "Well, neither do I - not that anyone knows, anyway. But I figured, why not? We ought to celebrate this meeting somehow."

Makoto contemplated the thick, syrupy liquid at the bottom of the glass.

She really was a pretty girl, though somehow flame-like and ghostly in her appearance. He lamented the fact that it wasn't cold enough to offer her his jacket yet - but then again, maybe the people here were a more relaxed about such things and maybe a little liquor would not hurt, if only to make him braver.

He tossed back the glass a few seconds after she did, and savoured the warm, tingling feeling as it spread throughout his chest.

"So tell me a little bit about yourself," he heard Kaoru's voice. "Tell me what you do, where it is you come from again."

Makoto put down his glass, and was about to chuckle in response - "wait, what, is this an interview?" But with her bright red hair and expectant eyes the girl looked so much like Hayato Shigino - the boy whose fear of swimming was the reason why he was studying in Tokyo in the first place - that Makoto gave up the idea fairly quickly.

He shrugged, and reached for a meat skewer that still smelled of char and made him think of summer cookouts.

"Well, there isn't much to know," he said with a sheepish smile. "I come from a town called Iwatobi, and it's right off the coast of the sea of Japan. I lived there with my dad, my mom, and my little brother and sister, Ren and Ran. They're twins, and they're about ten years old now."

"Twins? Really?" Kaoru's mouth spread in a lovely smile. "I love twins."

Makoto could not help but return the smile. He loved the twins too. They'd cried so much when they learned he would be leaving, and even on the last day they sat on his suitcases and begged him not to go.

"Yeah, they are fun." He nodded. "And really are sweet - and so smart: Ren's already doing Algebra in juku**, and the best part is - they're always rooting for me, no matter how badly I screw up."

(**cram school, which almost all kids attend to get an edge on official examinations)

Kaoru nodded.

"You miss them?"

"Yeah, a lot…"

Kaoru took another swig of Umeshu - this time right from the bottle. Makoto recalled, with a slight yen under the ribs, that he had not had a proper conversation with the twins since the day he left - it had been too busy, and he didn't count the times when they shouted in a chorus over the clang of dinner that they missed him.

He made a mental note to set aside time this weekend to call, and Kaoru gave another smile.

"What do you like to do with them?"

"Oh…" Makoto snapped his head up and blushed. Date or no date, sitting with a pretty girl was certainly no time to be indulging in guilt-ridden reverie. "Well, I don't know." He smiled. "I guess pretty much everything. I like to help them with their homework, and help my brother Ren get ready in the morning - he's always be late for everything… And yeah, he also likes to build model airplanes, and Ren and Ran both like to go swimming…"

Kaoru smiled, the apples of her cheeks forming perky little hillocks.

"That's lovely. I thought you'd be a really nice brother. Is that why you want to do what you want to do - teach kids?"

"Oh yeah? How did you know?"

Kaoru nodded at Makoto's bag - which he had brought just in case his hands got fidgety.

"The pin. It says 'University of Tokyo: School of Education.' You want to be a teacher, right?"

Makoto nodded, and Kaoru beamed, the apples of her cheeks growing perkier.

"Looks like you're pretty observant." Makoto chuckled. "I wouldn't have noticed a thing like that."

Kaoru shrugged - with just one shoulder, and threw back her arms.

"I notice things" - she arched her back in the attitude of cat.

Makoto smiled again.

"Well, that's good. And yeah. I want to be a teacher. It's funny how it came about, too. I had these friends who were super into the swim club, and I was on the swim team too, and was in a lot of races. But they were all about competing on a national level, and I didn't think I was up for that. Then one day our coach asked me if I could help him at this other place where he was working - teaching swimming lessons to kids - and it was great. Now it's kind of what I want to do… Teach Japanese, maybe, and swimming lessons as part of a gym class."

Kaoru bent her arms and lowered herself out of her bridge-pose, settling down onto her haunches. Just like before, her clothes were far too baggy to see much underneath, but Makoto felt a twinge of guilt regardless.

"Here. You should eat something," he said, pushing one of the trays toward her. "I feel bad, you're the one who's invited me, and yet I'm eating everything."

Kaoru shook her head, and took another swig of Umeshu from the bottle.

"No, you're fine," she said. "You keep eating. Why don't you tell me more about your friends…"

And so Makoto did, for Kaoru was a very good listener, and wonderful at making one forget that anything existed except them. He told about his adventures over the last few years: how he had first joined the swim club with Haru at the age of nine, and how they first met Rin - the red-haired, shark-toothed ball of energy and red hair who had first had taught them how to swim a relay.

Kaoru listened very nicely, in time shifting back from sitting on her calves and to a more relaxed position. Another drink from the bottle later, she ended up scooting a little closer to him.

"Your friends sound lovely," she observed. "I have a friend like Rin myself."

"You do?"

"Yeah, back from high school. He brought a bunch of us together. He was the kind who wouldn't take no for an answer - he hunted me down until I joined."

"Oh, really? What kind of a club?"

"Oh, nothing too special, just a social club. But it was fun while it lasted. Too bad we couldn't keep it up while in college: a few of us had to go our separate ways."

By then, Makoto was beginning to feel warm though it was getting colder, and had accepted another drink from the bottle. He waited for a few more moments for Kaoru to say more, but it seemed that she expected the same of him, and her eyes were just as tawny-watery-gold and accepting as ever.

And so he went on, and told her about he reunion at the starting block, when he and Haru had all but forgotten of swimming as a team until Nagisa, who was a year below them, had come to their school and they reformed the swim club. And then, in his mind's eye, he took Kaoru by the hand and they flew over the expanse of sleeping towns and railroad tracks that was the island of Honshu**, and hovered over the rooftops and sleeping harbours of Iwatobi as he told her about the time they repaired the swimming pool themselves, and pulled all the weeds and painted it and scrubbed it until it was good as new.

(**The large island on which Tokyo, Kyoto, and a number of other major Japanese cities are located.)

It seemed that Kaoru was simply the quiet sort - just like his friend with the very similar name - but as she sat beside him, ever the small, quiet, expectant statue, her face lit up with all the emotion of one intimately involved. He told her, next, about recruiting Rei, and about their many happy practices early on teaching him how to swim - for indeed, they had really been that desperate, and recruited someone whose skills in pole-vaulting were the only connection he had to swimming.

The last part elicited a giggle from Kaoru, which she promptly up covered up her hand, though Makoto wished she hadn't. Her smile was beautiful - peachy-orange like the rest of her, and went beyond the corners of her mouth - so in a way it was a wasted effort.

Indeed, the liquor was starting to go to his head, so he consciously had to keep from taking her had away. He hid the urge, however, by giving an even bigger smile, and imagined the array of body washes, lotions, and creams that a good daughter of a company executive had to have - for somehow or other, he had decided that she was exactly that: the daughter of a successful salariman not burdened by too many expectations.

"That's lovely. Tell me more" - Kaoru smiled again, cutting short the words that were edging up his throat.

"More? What, you mean about the team?"

Kaoru's phone buzzed in her pocket, cutting short the phrase. She reached into her pocket.

"Um… Sorry, I…."

"No, it's okay, go right ahead."

Kaoru pulled her phone out and flipped it open.

"Yes, Okaasan?" **

(**informal for "mother.")

Kaoru listened for a few intent moments, the middles of her eyebrows tenting.

"No, Okaasan, I'm out with Tamaki right now. We're over at Odaiba - no, it's fine, I think I might spent the night over at his place with Haruhi - yes, I know -"

The phone chattered something unintelligible - not that Makoto was really listening, and Kaoru gave a small eyeroll.

"Yes, _Okaasan_, I'll do my best, I promise I'll be ready - Yes, go right ahead and tell Ageha I'm sorry, that I'll read her her bedtime story next time: big sister needs to go out and make some stories too, you know…"

The phone yammered away for a few more seconds, and Kaoru listened tensely with a progressive, molasses-slow eyeroll and a tucking of her tongue behind her cheek. Her expression then melted into another tenting of the eyebrows, and then into a pressing of three fingers, in Western genuflection style, over the space between her eyes.

"Yes, Okaasan, yes, I said _yes_ - I promise I won't be tired, and if I am, I'll just drink lots of coffee…"

The phone spat something back, and Kaoru, miffed though she seemed, suppressed a giggle.

"Alright, Okaasan, alright… Much love to dad, assuming he's back..."

The phone crinkled loudly and went dead, and Kaoru's smile became lopsided. She flicked her wrist away from her face, and chuckled airily.

"I'm sorry, that probably didn't help matters, did it?"

Makoto hadn't thought of anything better do other than shrug and reach for a piece of hotdog cut to look like an octopus. Kaoru sat in the same attitude for a few moments more, then seemed to notice Makoto again.

"No, it's alright," he shrugged again. "I'm glad you have a good relationship with your parents, though."

Kaoru flipped the phone shut and stuck it back in her pocket.

"Who's Tamaki, though?"

"Oh, well" -

She took another drink of Umeshu, and glanced out over the skyline.

"Well, for today's purposes, _you're_ Tamaki. But actually he's just a good friend. The one I told you was like Rin - speaking of which, you didn't finish telling me about Rin."

Makoto smiled.

"Well, look," he said. "I obviously _could_ tell you about Rin -" He adjusted himself to sit with his his knee folded up - "I mean, I could tell you about the time were the underdog team with a coach who drove a pizza-mobile and no money even for uniforms, and how we made it to prefecturals and would have made it to Nationals if not for a technicality, but" - his smile widened - "I'd much rather hear about _you_."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. A story for a story: I like to keep things equal." Makoto set his features into the dogged smile that always worked on Haru. The only thing that was missing was the outstretched hand and the brimming bathtub.

Kaoru seemed to falter, and glanced down like a scolded child.

"Well, uh, there isn't much to know…" She brought her hand to her face, and lightly touched her lips. "I mean, I've lived here pretty much all my life, though I guess I was born in Italy - so that's something."

"In Italy? So you're a foreigner?"

With her pale, creamy-white skin and tawny eyes, it certainly would have explained a lot.

But Kaoru shook her head.

"No - no, not really. I mean, do have some Ainu in me, and my dad is a Hapa* - but my parents simply were just in Italy at the time, on business…"

(*Japanese word of "half," used to designate people who are of part-Japanese, part other heritage.)

"So they travel?"

Kaoru nodded, biting her lip. "Yeah, actually they do. But not so much anymore."

It seemed the story for a story method wasn't working. Kaoru had gone back to looking like a frightened child, and Makoto reached for another piece of octopus.

"Well, look, I've never been outside of Japan before" - he said, popping the thing into his mouth and chewing it thoroughly. "Come to think of it, I've never really been anywhere, except to Tottori for prefecturals and then to here. So it's kind of nice to be in a place where there's different food on the streets. Back home, everything is made with squid. Squid, octopus, and mackerel."

Kaoru gave a giggle.

"Well, that's okay." She shifted towards him. "Because I kind of like squid and mackerel. And I've never been to any place where my neighbor might be a guy with a fishing boat - so I guess we're even."

…

It went on like that. By turns, Makoto and Kaoru took swigs from the bottle, and nibbled on food, and gradually Kaoru began to open up, telling stories of Ageha's first steps, and when a "family friend" had given them a book on Kansai cooking, and when her mother had first announced that she was pregnant and Kaoru was in the hospital. Kaoru still didn't give too much away, steering the conversation to you, me, and the present whenever possible - but still bit by bit things were falling into place. It seemed that Kaoru wasn't just shy - she was simply more comfortable talking and thinking about her family - which wasn't a fault of hers, for they seemed very nice - a mother who owned a business, a father, a little sister, and a set of very traditional grandparents.

In fact, Makoto had now revised his view of Kaoru to include a family shop in some quant old district of Tokyo, and found that he liked it much better this way. Indeed, it was enough to make him open up as well, and he told her about the miraculous victory at prefecturals - the one that might have taken them to nationals his junior year. Kaoru blushed heartily at the anxiety of the preparation - the moment Rin decided to replace Rei in the butterfly leg - and at the injustice of the decision - and by degrees, the food dwindled, and all that was left in time was a set trays with wasabi and surplus soy sauce.

The Umeshu-line had dwindled by degrees as well, and it was only a matter of time until Kaoru had begun to laugh so hard she had fallen and could not get up - notably, over Makoto's impression of the swim team's lady-manager scolding the sweet-loving Nagisa, "this goes BEYOND your nutrition as an athlete."

Makoto had tried to help her up, feeling the liquor swishing in his ears as well - but when he did, she flopped back down against his chest and snorted.

"Whoops - heh -"

Makoto glanced down at his watch.

Dear goodness - how long had it _been_?

From what he could tell, even he was growing tipsy. In fact, the cold that had been bothering him before no longer was, and his reactions were definitely growing sluggish. Even the fact that he was touching Kaoru took a few seconds to compute, and while something like that might have sent him into a panic before, this time he felt nothing of the kind, and actually found himself tightening his hold around her.

His only worry was that Kaoru was about to come to and might start flailing - but even so, it felt like somebody else's worry, and not his own.

"Hey, Kaoru" - he whispered after a few seconds, his rationality gaining the upper hand as he did his best to hold her just far enough away to not get any ideas.

"Hey, Kaoru, you okay?"

The girl hung limply in his arms, weak as a ragdoll.

"Yeah... Uh... Fine. I'm just - I don't know."

There was a bit of a sadness in her voice.

"Yeah, it's okay, it happens. Let's get you home -"

"No, you know I can't go _home_. I said I was with Tamaki."

The wind rustled in the trees, and Makoto listened to textured silence.

"Oh, right, well..."

And, obviously, he _could_ just take her back to his apartment and let her sleep - that's where this all was heading anyway… He blushed inwardly at the thought - he'd never taken anyone _home_ before, much less a girl who looked like a European model and smelled like sakura blooms and cranberry tarts. But then again, nobody had to know, and he wasn't that sort of person, and even if there was any doubt, it wasn't as if he ever talked to any of his neighbors…

The swimmer adjusted his grip on the girl, who had begun to sag, and hoisted her up against his torso.

"Hey, hey, Kaoru," he whispered in her ear. "Don't fall asleep on me, alright?"

She nodded, wearily.

"Mmhhm… Sorry, I…"

"No need to be sorry - you're wonderful, alright?… I'm gonna take you back to my apartment, so you can sleep it off and tell your mother tomorrow that you had a great night at Tamaki's reliving your childhood memories or whatever, okay?"

He lifted her chin and glanced into her eyes - but they were drifting. Struggling to retain his grip on reality, he lay her down onto her side, and began to gather the dishes. Haphazardly, he stuffed them into a plastic bag, then pulled together the blanket. Surely, it would be easy to catch a train from here - it was a well-known entertainment district; the trains would probably be running all night. The only thing to do was not to get noticed - but Makoto was already getting the sense that this was not a tall order in this city.

…

It did not keep him from worrying, though.

As he sat on the train with the lights of Odaiba slipping past and the breeze of the vents around his toes, the full force of the situation hit him.

He hardly knew this girl. She'd told a lie to her parents to spend the night with him, and now she was drunk, sleeping soundly against his shoulder under the looks of several straggler salarimen. There was also a gaggle of twenty-somethings on the train - going on with whatever party they had come from over a bottle in a paper bag - and surely, one of them _had_ to be a detective in plain clothes, ready to arrest him for being drunk and taking advantage of his female companion…

Except, no, surely that was silly -

And yet, was it really? For he HAD gotten drunk, something he himself could barely believe, and before that day he'd never even had a drop of liquor. The only redeeming feature was that his body was more voluminous than the rest, and so was already clearing away the offending substance…

And then, come to think of it, he'd never even been with a girl before. Now, granted, Kaoru did not even dress like a girl, and could have passed for a bishounen if she tried, but people's minds worked in particular ways, and Makoto could not help but want to weep that no, he wasn't like that…

He sighed.

He really _wasn't_ like that. He didn't _want_ to be like that. In fact, apart from any need for sex, the girl beside him made him very sad, and all he wanted to put his arms around her.

Outside, a smattering of rain knocked against the glass, and Makoto saw the passing lights of a station. The voice of Kaori Mizuhashi announced Telecom Center, and Makoto wondered if Tokyo really was just a web of wires - a huge cocoon in which everything was connected.

…

Back by his house, the cherry trees in the garden seemed to shine. By now, their blossoms were mostly shed, the petals covering the ground in a pink, frothy snow - but now and again, the crash and clatter of a train would send them up in little eddies.

Makoto's building was small and had two stories, and nestled right between two others underneath the tracks. The rent was cheap for just that reason, and so most the tenants were students and others who were often out at night. The neighborhood lay swathed in darkness and stillness, and by the time they had arrived, the girl sleeping on his shoulder was beginning to stir.

Makoto draped her over his shoulder and made his way onto the second floor. As he fumbled for his keys and pushed open the door, she stumbled forward into the darkness and collapsed onto the futon.

Makoto could only thank his lucky stars that she seemed too wasted to have noticed the pile of dishes in the sink - and, hopefully, the smell of char that still clung to the curtains.

He quickly locked the door behind him, turning on the kitchen light, and started to fill a water glass.

"Mmm-hmmm, are you gonna have sex with me or not?"

Makoto nearly dropped the glass into the sink.

"W-w-wwha?.. I beg your pardon?!"

Kaoru grunted, rolling over onto her stomach.

"I SAID, when are you gonna have sex with me already? I kinda wanna get it over with while I'm still conscious, you know? And I kind of wanna get to see those sexy swimmer muscles - so what's the hell's the holdup?"

Makoto squeezed the glass between his fingers, then put it down and strode over to the futon.

"Kaoru" - he squatted down by her side. "What are you saying? This isn't why I brought you here…"

"You know damn well what I'm saying, now take off your pants and get it done -"

Makoto sighed and pushed himself up by the knees. He strode back over to the sink, refilled the glass, and came back over to Kaoru's side.

"Look, Kaoru, can you sit up?" He eased his hand under her back.

"You _don't_ like me that way - I knew it… All you wanted was to eat my food…"

"Come on, Kaoru, it's not like that…"

"Yeah, sure. You say it's not like that, but you're a guy. I know exactly how guys work."

She gave a spasmodic gasp, and Makoto patted her back, pressing the rim of the glass against her lips. "Here, drink this first. Then we can talk."

The redhead had begun to tear up, but did as he said all the same. Makoto supported her back as she drank, and her face contorted into a sad, childish scowl.

"Shh, shh…" he whispered, stroking her hair. "It's okay. Honestly, I was just taken aback, that's all. I've never really been in this kind of situation."

The girl paused, and swallowed what she had before glancing up. Even in the dark, her face looked skeptical.

"No way."

"Yes, way."

"Oh, come ON, don't tell me you don't get propositioned in the friggin' _street_…"

Makoto lowered his eyes - and proffered the water glass once again.

Without knowing it, Kaoru had hit mark much closer than she knew.

For indeed, it was Makoto's misfortune - or perhaps fortune - to have been born to tall parents and with a pretty face. The years of swimming, too, had honed his muscles, and the result was that people really _did_ look in the street, and on the train, and everywhere else, indeed, where passers-by were to be found. And after a while, Makoto had learned to ignore it, but there were still people - women, mostly, young and old - who tried to stand too close, or lean up against him "by accident," and while he tried to be gracious about it all, even buying White Day gifts for every girl who noticed him on Valentine's - the selfsame fact remained: he couldn't shake the feeling that the girls were after him for _what_ he was rather than _who_ he was, and so he ended up reaching the ripe old age eighteen without ever having been kissed, or on a date, or even having held hands with anyone.

"Well, ehm," he finally said, gathering his wits, "For what it's worth, it's not like I'd say _yes_ even if that were the case, you know?…"

The redhead took another gulp and wrinkled her nose, flexing her stomach as if in a wave of nausea.

"Oh, yeah? And why don't you say yes - just out of curiosity?"

"Oh, I don't know." Makoto shrugged, motioning to her to take another drink. "Lame as this sounds, I kind of want my first time to be special. And I kind of get the sense that you want the same thing -"

"Yeah, no. I've _had_ my first time…"

"Oh… Well, then…"

Makoto took a furtive glance over Kaoru's limbs. Society might have dictated that she ought to have fallen in his eyes right then, but she did not. With her slender arms and legs, her tapering waist, her borderline-Western features, she was a beautiful woman in every sense, and it would have been selfish to expect anything different.

"Well, your first time with… A specific person, then," he finally said. "I mean, to have sex that you might not even remember, with someone you only just met, in a place that's hardly even set up for it - I mean, I think you deserve a lot better than that, that's all."

"You think?"

Kaoru pulled away and looked at him quizzically.

Makoto put down the glass, and pulled his sleeve up over his wrist, moving gently to dry her tears.

"Of course I do. I think what you deserve everything and more. That's why if it were me, I'd want to date you for a few months first, to get to know everything about you: what pose you sleep in on a Sunday morning, and what kind of curlicues you make on your Kanji when you write…"

He smoothed down her hair, and cupped her face, pressing a chaste kiss to one of the cheeks.

"And then I'd want to know what kind of things will make your heart go pitter-pat, and where the sensitive spot on your neck is, and who bullied you in middle school, and what animes you like to watch. And then I'd take you back to Odaiba to the amusement park, and we'd have a really fun day filled with rides and cotton candy, and then we'd come back here and set up some candles, or maybe go to a love-hotel if you want…"

He paused. Kaoru slumped up against his shoulder, and was silently nodding - though he wasn't sure if it was in agreement or not. He moved her over, peeling away the covers of the futon, and deftly redirected her legs inside. As he did so, he realized she was even thinner than he'd thought - her body made out of tough fibers, light and slender though it was.

He settled her under the covers, and quickly got up to click off the lights, returning to lie down next to her.

"Mm, tell me more," Kaoru whispered as he peeled each sock off with the other foot. "I like it… so far… except for the candles…"

Makoto smiled and wrapped his arms around her, pressing a chaste kiss onto her cheek.

"Okay, then, we won't do that. You're right - we don't want to make a fire hazard. But still, I would want to sit you down, and start kissing your straight, beautiful shoulders, and then your neck, and tell you all the things I like about you before I ask -"

He kissed her again, in the same spot, but then his thoughts were interrupted with a snore. He glanced down and sure enough - Kaoru had fallen fast asleep.


End file.
